


Princess

by kyle-with-an-o (evil_saint)



Series: Conquering Love [3]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Blink And You Miss It D/s, Hux Talks Dirty, Hux is Not Nice, Hux's Name is Brendol Jr, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Leia Organa Deserves Better 2k16, M/M, Surveillance, The Resistance Has Regrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 21:20:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7817728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evil_saint/pseuds/kyle-with-an-o
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Resistance gets a tip-off from a Hosnian survivor that the First Order is active in the Core. </p><p>“We lucked out, Ma’am," Finn tells her. "They stayed in a hotel on Cormond,” the Brentaalian capitol. “Our contact managed to set up a security feed in the room. It’s just under two hours long. Might have something.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Princess

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [artyaourter](http://artyaourter.tumblr.com/) and [lingering-nomad](https://lingering-nomad.tumblr.com/) for the feedback.

“General Organa?”

Leia glances up to find the former stormtrooper hovering in the door to her office. He fidgets with his clothing, uneasy. She told him that he's not required to salute or wait for permission before he enters her domain, and he's trying, but fifteen years of conditioning are not so easily erased.

“Yes Finn,” she replies, offering a smile.

“We got some intel, Ma’am. It seems the general—”

His eyes widen and Leia sees him tamping down the instinctive surge of panic at what must have been a form of insubordination where he comes from:  _do not acknowledge the rank of enemy personnel._ Given what Leia knows of the First Order, it makes a twisted sort of sense. It won’t do to let the opposition seem too much like equals in the eyes of the blaster fodder.

“I mean, we have preliminary confirmation that  _Hux_ is travelling between planets in the Bormea sector. And he isn’t alone. The details are sketchy, but the description is a match for Kylo Ren.”

_Kylo Ren._

The name sends Leia’s heart tripping in her chest and suddenly she’s the one fighting to keep the truth from spilling onto her face.

Finn doesn’t know.

Rey does.

Rey and Luke and Chewie, but no one else. Not even Poe who was captured, tortured and violated by the man her son has become. Poe tries to hide what he suffered behind a jovial veneer, but Leia knows about the bunk in the hangar. Apparently his nightmares were keeping the rest of the barracks awake. She has to bite back the apologies every time she sees him. For sending him out there, for what happened to him, for not warning him about… _everything_.

She has kept this secret inside for so long that it has become lodged, like a piece of shrapnel. It might well be what kills her, but she fears what else will tear loose if it’s pulled out into the open.

So Poe doesn’t know, and neither does Finn.

Finn.

Who was there when Han was—when she lost him.

It’s Finn who described the scene to her, of Han shouting something that caught  _Lord Ren’s_ attention. Finn doesn’t know what was said. It was impossible to hear over the noise of the oscillators and the echoes of explosions on the surface, but Han Solo shouted something and it gave  _Lord Ren_ pause, so much so that he removed his helmet and yes, the face underneath is  _human_.

 _See, us ‘troopers have a betting pool running about what species he is._ Finn would have been out quite a few ration packs if the truth were known.

Leia appreciates his attempt at humor to try and lighten the blow, but she didn’t have it in her to smile. Not then. He told her about the strange interaction that followed, almost as if  _Lord Ren_ and Han Solo had met before. They spoke and then Han approached. Cautious, but also, strangely…  _hopeful._

_I know it sounds crazy, Ma’am, but that’s how it looked, I swear._

Han reached out to take  _Lord Ren’s_ saber. And for one protracted second, it seemed like the Sith (or whatever he is; Finn isn’t sure) might surrender.

But no.

 _Surrender_ was not what he did.

That was two months ago. Since then, a tiny part of Leia has woken up praying that it's all just been a terrible dream. Childish, and she isn’t sure what it says about her that she’s still capable of such naiveté, if only for a few fleeting moments in the morning. After all this time, after everything she has survived, you’d think she’d be used to waking up to her nightmares.

Leia drags herself into the present and pushes the memories aside. The time for mourning will come when the fighting is over. She doesn’t acknowledge the niggle at the back of her mind that asks when, if ever, that will be.

“Our intel comes from Brentaal IV,” Finn reports. “According to our contact, they’re trying to win support for the First Order and it’s,” his boyish face hardens with distaste, “ _cause_.”

It takes Leia a moment to orient herself to what has just been revealed and all the implications thereof. Kylo Ren and General Brendol Hux Junior, two of the three-headed hydra that makes up the First Order’s executive command, are in Republican space. The debris of the Hosnian system has yet to settle and already they’re flitting about the galaxy like they own it. They may have lost their super weapon, but it’s impossible to know what else their arsenal consists of. At least, it is for anyone who hasn’t been monitoring the First Order’s expansion for the better part of two decades, which is most of the known galaxy.

But no matter.

Starkiller fell.

The rest of the Order will too. Leia will see to it personally, if it’s the last thing she does. “What do we have?”

“We lucked out, Ma’am. They stayed in a hotel on Cormond,” the Brentaalian capitol, “where the head of security is a second gen Hosnian expatriate, or, uh…”

Finn looks pained. The poor boy is still struggling with his misplaced guilt over the hand he had, however small, in the Starkiller’s construction. All Hosnian survivors are refugees. There is no  _patria_ for them to return to.

“Point is,” Finn goes on, “they were recognized, but our contact couldn't afford to make too much noise.”

Leia nods. Few civilians can safely speculate about whose and how many palms were greased to ensure the warmth of the First Order’s welcome. The Trade Hall that governs Brentaal is known for its pragmatism above all else. If there is money to be made, finding a sympathetic ear among the Guildsmen is hardly a challenge.

“She did manage to set up a security feed in the room. It’s just under two hours long. Might have something.”

“Might?” Leia questions.

Finn looks apologetic. “She didn’t have a chance to review it, Ma’am. The tap was discovered and she had to move fast to cover her tracks. It’s a wonder she retrieved anything at all.”

“And no one on our side has checked it either?” Leia asks, eyes narrowing in concern. The Resistance needs all the help it can get, but it won’t do to become complacent.

Finn shakes his head. “No General. I would suggest that we move quickly on this. The Gen—uh,  _Hux_ never drags his feet. By the time he’s ready to execute, he’s got every step worked out along with three contingencies to make sure he isn’t slowed down.” Finn shrugs. “It could be nothing, or it could be a game changer. We’re keeping it need-to-know to protect the contact. It’s why I was sent to brief you.”

Leia’s heart leaps. The emotion that fills her is an uncomfortable amalgamation of dread, anticipation and something darker that she’ll have to meditate on later, maybe with Luke’s help.

The nod she gives Finn is decisive. “Tell them to bring it in here.”

 

* * *

 

They’re all gathered in Leia’s office around a secure holocube that Rey has set up with inputs from Finn. They make a good team (and if the boy’s eyes linger a little too long when Rey walks off to train with Luke, well, Leia won’t be the one to scold him for it). The cube’s holonet and broadcasting chips have been removed, reducing it to little more than a portable display unit. They did what they could to verify the recording’s origins, but on the off chance that it’s hiding something malicious, it won’t have the opportunity to spread.

Activating the holo reveals a nondescript carpet and the type of blandly neutral wall finish favored in establishments that cater to  _politically diverse_ clientele. The holocam appears to be a stationary fixture, probably placed for maximum concealment rather than range. The angle is a little awkward, useful for recording traffic through the door, but not what happens in the room beyond. Leia finds her optimism waning, but she keeps it to herself and settles in to watch.

“Do we know whose room this is?” she asks.

“No.” It’s Luke who replies. “The message that came with it is light on specifics.”

Leia sighs. “Hm. I suppose that’s understandable.” She remembers that Hux is the tactician. His rooms are the more strategic choice and she tells herself firmly to think like the leader of a war effort and not a mother, quietly aching for a glimpse of her son.

They skim through ninety-two minutes of footage that feature nothing but that blank square of wall. No one says a word, but Leia can feel their disappointment mounting. There’s less than thirty minutes left when the door unlocks with a beep and a flicker, and not one, but both First Order commanders step across the threshold. The glimpse is fleeting, just enough to register the agitated set of the redhead’s shoulders and the scowling, stalking presence at his back.

After all these years…it’s  _him_.

It’s  _Ben_.

A couple of strides take the men from view, but Leia clutches the image in her mind: a flash of dark hair and darker clothing, the same nose she once hoped he would grow into. She has read each and every witness description she could get her hands on. They all make mention of how tall he is, but the truth of it still startles her; the way menace radiates from him, even in that splinter of a second in the holo.

They’re back to staring at the wall, but now there are voices, raised in disagreement. Finn reaches over to fiddle with the cube, and the sound amplifies to fill the room.

“…ever  _once_  paused in your petulant brooding to actually  _help_ , Ren!”

The voice is pitched thin, cuttingly sharp. The nasal vowels of the Arkanian middle class and rolling R's of the Unknown Regions soak through each word. The man’s accent is thicker than it is in his recorded speeches and Leia suspects that his roots bleed through stronger when he doesn’t have a script.

“I  _am_ helping, Hux! Fuck!”

Static ripples through the holo, the Force swelling with Ben’s flaring temper, and Leia blinks. He didn’t use to swear. It’s an absurd thought, considering what else he’s done and she almost laughs. Almost.

The exchange pauses, words replaced by audible, angry breathing; the clink of stemware and the trickle of liquid. There’s the squeaking of mattress springs and the thump of a headboard hitting the wall as a substantial weight collapses onto a bed.

“You need to trust me, General,” Ben picks up the discussion, sounding very slightly calmer. His voice is low and smooth, mellifluous even, but with the same ring of menace, tolling like a death knell. “You need to  _let_ me help and you need to let me use  _my_  methods to do it. That is what you offered and that is what I agreed to – autonomy, Hux! And partnership and full disclosure! That is what you promised and that is what  _you_ owe, I am  _not_ the one who’s in default here!”

“Yes! Alright? Yes! I know!”

The statement is punctuated with a sudden, loud shattering noise – a drinking glass hurled against a wall - making the assembled Resistance members jump.

Leia looks up to share a glance with Luke.

So Ben and that genocidal fascist have struck some sort of bargain? But what about, what about… _Snoke_ is the name Finn gave them: the Supreme Leader of the First Order. Why would his enforcer and director be making deals among themselves?

Her brother knew Ben as long as she did, and it’s Luke who knew him best in the time leading up to…all of  _this_. Luke seems piqued, but equally perplexed and Leia returns to staring at the flickering patch of empty wall as she listens.

She anticipates more yelling, but Hux’s voice, when he speaks again, is unexpectedly gruff. “Look, I’m sorry, Ren— _Kylo_.” He sighs, then adds, more quietly, “It’s been an exceedingly trying day.”

“Hmph,” Ben sulks, and Leia swears she can hear the eye-roll in the sound. It seems there  _are_ some things that haven’t changed at all.

There’s more tinking of glass and splashes of alcohol from Hux's side of the room. A minute ticks by and then static again buzzes through the hollo, accompanied by the crunch of glass. Shards being compressed, then scattering as they hit bottom in some sort of container.

“Thank you,” Hux says, terse, slightly grudging.

“You’re welcome," Ben replies. "Force forbid you clean up your own messes. Might get hurt,” still testy and Leia can’t tell if it’s intended as an overture or a threat.

An extended pause follows. When the hush breaks, it’s Hux’s voice that does it, sounding hoarse, as if he swallowed too much of his liquor a little too fast. “I like your…” He trails off. What he does to compensate draws a rumbling laugh from the vicinity of the bed, more creaking of springs.

“I’m well aware of what you  _like_ , General.”

Suggestive. Bordering on lewd.

One room.

One bed?

Realization looms and Leia tries to shy from it.  _Force, please no. Let this be anything but what it sounds like._

“Mhm,” Hux hums, unimpressed. “I felt you, you know. Thanks for the headache. You do realize it’s not the inner workings of  _my_ psyche we’re interested in?”

“Ugh, will you  _stop?_  Their minds are loud and dull and crass. You cannot imagine—“

“Oh, I think—”

“ _No_ , Hux. You  _can’t_. For every word of asinine prattle they spew at you, ten are withheld. That is what _I_  have to dig through -  _without_  breaking their pathetic, chaotic little minds, to try and dredge up something of use. You have your cigarra breaks. I have mine.”

Whatever unspoken cues pass between them, the strain of annoyance is gone from Ben’s voice when the conversation resumes. “Aren’t you going to ask what I found?”

“Later.” Hux sounds closer to the bed. Leia feels something like nausea unfurling, except it isn’t confined to her stomach. A strange, horrified paralysis has taken hold of everyone in the room. None of them want to hear what comes next, but it might matter, it might be important, and so nobody moves.

“That pattern,” the redhead is saying, “on your lips. It’s Nabooian isn’t it? From the Royal House?”

Leia frowns. All she saw of her son was hair and nose and shades of black. The thought of him flaunting any part of his Naberrie heritage is…unsettling. Padmé Amidala abhorred everything he has come to embrace.

If Ben responds, it isn’t in words and Hux goes on, “And here I thought your self-abnegating knighthood was all about renouncing the temptations of your past.”

“It’s lipstick, Bren. And it isn’t me who’s  _tempted_.”

“You have me there, Lord Ren.”

The bed shifts and a hand strikes the linen. “Wouldn’t you prefer to have me here?”

Hux laughs. “Awfully accommodating of you.”

“You apologized to me. Today makes twice in as many months. I…don’t remember anyone else doing that,” Ben says, suddenly tentative.

 _You never gave me the chance!_ Leia wants to rail, to scream, but she keeps it in.

Another pause, the rustle of fabric, creaking bedsprings, panting. “I’ll put a blaster to their heads. Make them beg your forgiveness on their knees. Would you like that?” The general’s voice is muffled, spoken past the sound of kissing.

“And what if I choose not to grant it,” her son asks, breathless.

Leia grimaces. She can hear the wetness of the other man’s mouth on his lips.

“Well, then I’ll have to pull the trigger of course.”

“Nhmm,” the knight moans (she cannot think of him as  _Ben_ in that moment). There's something underneath the seductive teasing in his tone, at once vicious and servile. “Oh General, the things you say...” 

“For you, princess?” Hux sounds smug. “Anything.”

_For you_

_Prin c e s s_

_A n y t h i n g_

The words echo in Leia’s head. The same edge of half-sincere sarcasm is there, but spoken in a Corellian accent, with the drone of a YT-1300 light freighter shuddering in the backdrop and she can’t, she can’t—

Her hand flies to her mouth as she rises from her chair. She thinks for a moment that she’s going to be ill, but no. No. Not now. Not here. She swallows it down and it’s only when Luke’s arms wrap around her, shouting for Finn to “Turn it off!” that she feels the wetness on her cheeks.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a drabble to satisfy my thirst for Hux calling Kylo "Princess" and somehow it turned into Leia angst. This stands on it's own, but will eventually be part of a series. Stay tuned. Come say hi on [tumblr](http://kyle-with-an-o.tumblr.com)


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